


The End Is Just The Beginning

by Jamaican Princess (Rocquellan)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocquellan/pseuds/Jamaican%20Princess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's kidnapped by something that looks like Dean. Dean knows what future him is capable of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End Is Just The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> AU between s5e4 ‘the end’ and s5e5 ‘fallen idol’.

Sam doesn’t want to have false hope. He’s lived with some version of it most of his life and it was part of the reason he ended up here. Right here, right now.

Dean had called him back. His big brother had picked up the phone and reeled him back in after casting him out at sea by himself like a fish that swam in any direction the current went. Dean wanted him by his side, but it was clear within a few hours that Dean didn’t trust him yet.

Sam knew he deserved it. God, he deserved everything Dean dished out after all he’d done. Drinking demon blood, hurting Dean, hurting himself and freeing Lucifer; hurting the world. There was a mile wide list of all of Sam Winchester’s transgressions against humanity and against Dean. Against himself.

So, after letting him go without a fuss that morning around a picnic table in River Pass, Colorado, Sam was grateful to Dean for taking him back. The relief shouldn’t hurt so much, but it felt like a severed limb was miraculously reattached, whole and functioning. Except, there was the lingering pain of losing that limb and right now, that’s where he was with his brother.

“Any leads on the colt, Sammy?”

Sam kept typing away at his laptop, scrounging for any info he could dig up on where the colt might be located. They needed it to ice the devil. Just another in the list of things needed to mend his fuck ups. “No, nothing yet.”

“Well, I need something,” Dean griped, pacing the length of the motel room floor with one hand on his hip and the other scruffing through his hair. His boots clack, clacked against the linoleum floor and at any other time he knew Sam would have bitched at the distraction. He wanted him to open his mouth, say one self righteous word so he could lay into him. He was almost disappointed when Sam said instead, “‘K, I’m looking.”

Sam didn’t get Dean’s sudden need for icing the devil his main priority. Yeah, he got that it is, kind of, very much, important, but it wasn’t this high on Dean’s list of things to do before they separated. He wondered what he’d missed. It’s made Dean a lot more pushy and aggressive, something Sam hoped would have changed with his return.

“We got anything from any of the contacts?” Dean asked.

Sam shook his head and looked at the cell phone sitting idly by on the table. “No, nobody’s called.”

Bobby said he was working on it, which meant he had nothing. Squat. Dean threw himself on the bed and blew out a breath. “Fucking sucks.”

Sam agreed. He won’t have any sight left when Dean’s done with him and his researching on the glaring laptop. His mind fleetingly ran to one person he remembered who would have been able to help in a snap -for a very high price-. “God, could use Bella’s skills right about now...”

It was said under his breath,a slip, but Sam tensed when Dean shifted, looked at him and narrowed his eyes. “There a reason you think I’d ever want help from somebody like Bella, Sam? Think she could use her mojo to tilt the world right again?” _To fix your fuck ups?!_

Sam heard it anyway and he blew out a breath, deflating. This was the sum of his and Dean’s relationship as of late. He has to watch what he says and what he does. Dean doesn’t trust him to go get dinner by himself much less have an opinion. It’s frustrating. “No, I mean...”

“Can it, Sammy. Didn’t ask for your opinion anyways.”

Sam pretended that didn’t hurt while he focused on the laptop once again, ignoring his brother who threw himself on his bed, closest to the door, with his hands intertwined over his eyes, breathing deeply. He deserves it, he knows he does. Dean always knows what’s right, the past few months have proven that. For all that he’s supposedly got an higher IQ, he’s also got the lowest success rate in the things that really mattered. He pushed the laptop away and rubbed at his tired eyes. “I got nothing, I need some coffee.”

“Yup,” Dean agreed readily, standing and making a beeline for his jacket. “Coffee sounds like a good idea, I’ll go get us some.”

“And donuts,” Sam added while he made for his bed, the one furthest from the door, still. He doesn’t trust himself to even think that he deserves the other bed for once.

“Sugar rush, I can get with that.” Dean smiled while he fixed the collar of his jacket, his boots clacking against the floor as he moved further away.

Sam was tired. He was. Maybe that’s what clouded his judgment, so he asked tentatively, “Hey, want company?”

Dean stopped with his hand on the door, seemed to weigh his mind and without turning around, answered decisively. “No.”

Sam closed his eyes and spread himself out warily on the bed. He might have wanted his big brother close but Dean saw it different. Like maybe the best way to keep him in check was to keep him close, have his eyes on him. He couldn’t blame him though. He couldn’t. He fucked up royally. He ignored the part of his brain that kept repeating that Dean wouldn’t come back, that Dean still wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him after all he’s done and drifted into a restless doze. 

...........

Some time later, the sound of the front door opening jolted him out of sleep and he tensed, hands on the knife under his pillow before he looked back and saw Dean’s silhouette framing the doorway. “Hey, back already?”

Sam sat up and rubbed his eyes, squinting at his brother. “Where’s the coffee and donuts, Dean?” 

Dean stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. There was a smirk on Dean’s face, and a coldness in his eyes usually reserved for the monster of the week. When Dean stepped closer, he realized his brother wasn’t in the same clothes he left in. Somehow Dean seemed more rugged and haggard, and it set off all sorts of alarm bells inside his head. But this was Dean and for a fleeting moment he imagine it was time for the other shoe to drop, came time to pay his dues and he laid on the bed as _this_ Dean stealthy approached.

“Heya, Sammy.”

It was Dean’s voice, Dean’s face, Dean’s god damn aura but Sam felt it deep down, something was wrong. 

“I have something to tell you, Sammy. It’s very important.”

Shapeshifter? Siren? Wraith? Sam wasn’t sure _what_ the doppelganger was, but it crossed the salt line and wards at the door and he allowed it to get close enough for him to take a quick lunge and swipe at it, almost gutting the thing’s stomach. But the guy was quick enough to jump back at the last moment, dodging his attack.

“Fucker, you’re not my big brother,” Sam snarled, getting into a defensive stance with the knife, curling his finger around the hilt protectively. He could have sworn the guy’s eyes softened a bit at his words, but he was too strung out on the possibility of ganking a monster that just walked into their motel room wearing his brother’s face to care.

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy...” the guy drawled in that mocking/affectionate way his Dean normally does while they circled each other. “...I came back to do a job, you know? I’d love it if you just put the knife away and come with me for a little bit, I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“I don’t believe a word coming out of your lying mouth,” Sam snarled. He wanted to make the first move, but this thing was too good a fighter for him to risk it. Even the fighting style was the same as his Dean’s. Maybe if he got it talking, see what it wanted with him he could better get himself out of this mess, stall and see if his Dean would come back in time. “Why are you here, what do you want?”

The doppelganger smiled mirthlessly, then he stopped at the table and looked at the laptop, open to the last page of Sam’s research, reading his notes and other information strewn about the table. “Thinking of ganking the devil, huh? Looking for the Colt?”

“You have Dean’s memories, so you’re a shapeshifter,” Sam pointed out as fact.

Fake-Dean smiled. Then, he rushed Sam and Sam managed to deflect attempts at restraining him, across the bed and on the floor until he was pinned on his stomach, one hand pulled up almost to break behind his back while the other guy sat on him. 

“Just wanna talk, Sammy. Hold on, I gotcha...”

Sam bucked and snarled in pained outrage until what felt like a needle pricked his neck. Almost immediately he blacked out, thoughts of his big brother coming to save him his last thought. Even as a fading ‘I’ve missed you so much, little brother,’ drifted to his ear while fingers smoothed down his cheeks.

..........

Too much sugar and cream. Dean didn’t understand why Sam liked his coffee like that. Not that he hated sugar but coffee should be black, for the full effect of the actual coffee. And it’s manly, damnit. He’s got a half a dozen donuts for them both as he walked the two blocks back to the motel. He wanted to keep his mind on the coffee but it strays against his will. He remembers Sam’s voice, small and tentative as he offered to accompany him and he shot him down. It was reflexive really. A conditioned response to all the hurt and anger he was feeling welling up inside him. He can’t seem to forget how Sam had put Ruby, the queen bitch, before him and how he’d free Lucifer and everything that was wrong right now.

Drinking demon blood to kill Lilith? On some basic level Dean did understand. Lilith held his contract and got him sent downstairs and that must have pissed Sam off royally. Fucked him up in ways nothing else could. They always said the road to hell was paved with good intentions and his brother fell cleanly into that trap. He wished Sam had listened when he tried to talk him out of it though, even if to him it seemed like the right thing at the time.

Dean had sell his soul for Sammy, but Sammy had sold his humanity for Dean. He wasn’t sure which one of them he was pissed off at the most, himself or Sam. He pulled up to the motel and tried to balance the food while he searched for his room key in his pocket. When he pushed the key inside the keyhole and the door swung open without force, fear instinctively settled in his stomach like lead weight. They never left their doors open, because almost anything could just walk in like they owned the joint that way. It’s something their dad taught them both from too young an age.

“Sam? Sammy?”

No answer. Dean looked around the room, taking in the signs of a struggle and no little brother. He cursed at the sight of Sam’s phone lying haphazardly on the ground. “What the hell? Sam?!”

Fretting, Dean threw down the coffee and donuts on the table with the laptop and ran out to where the clerk was. The office was in view of their side of the rooms.

“Hey, tall guy I came in with, you seen him?” Dean asked frantically, impatiently eyeing the bespectacled guy around the counter.

The guy looked up, eyes scrunched in confusion. “Saw you helping him out to a car across the street about fifteen minutes ago. He looked sick, I thought you were taking him to the hospital or something.”

“You saw me? You sure it was me?” Dean prodded, head spinning at the thought a shapeshifter might have Sammy. The last one in St. Louis made it clear they weren’t to be fucked with and this one would be dead before the night was over if it so much as plucked a strand of hair from Sammy’s fluffy little head.

“Yeah, pretty sure. Though you were dressed different,” the guy scoffed, eyeing his clothes.

Dean kept looking around nervously, like if he checked he’d be able to see Sam from where he was. He turned back to the guy and asked. “Yeah, what was I wearing?”

The guy told him.

“Motherfucker!” The word punched out of Dean’s throat and he had to grab the edge of the counter with both hands to keep himself upright when the guy gave him the description. “Did you see the type of car, the plates?” Dean asked hopefully while his blood pounded in his ears. This was so not good.

The guy looked downright scared now. Scared of Dean. “Blue corvette, didn’t see the plates.”

Dean stomped off, back to the room before getting out his phone and dialling Cas. He told him where he was and less than a second later the angel was standing before him.

“Dean,” Castiel started, exasperation obvious in his tone. “I’m still searching for God.”

Dean growled while he searched the weapons duffel, making sure everything was locked and loaded. “Search for Sammy instead.”

Castiel squinted his eyes and tilted his head in that confused way he did sometimes. “Sam is gone?”

“Obviously,” Dean hissed.

“Who?”

Dean slid the clip into the pistol in his hand, the sound reverberating around the room like his conviction to getting Sammy back, before he looked at Cas and whispered. “Me.”

Castiel tilted his head again and Dean knew he didn’t get it. “I took Sam, ok? It’s the me from five years in the future. Thought Lucifer killed me, how the hell did he get here?”

“Wait, what?” Castiel asked confused.

Dean explained his little impromptu trip to the future courtesy of Zachariah and the body double and Lucifer wearing Sam to the Prom.

“So Zachariah changed tactics,” Castiel pointed out.

“Yeah,” Dean growled. “Now, do a nationwide search and tell me where they are. Guy couldn’t have gotten too far so quick.”

Castiel blinked out of existence, then blinked back in about two seconds later. “I can’t find either of them. They must be warded extensively against me.”

Dean groaned in frustration and anger, body vibrating with nerves before he turned to Cas and ran a hand over his face. He blew out a breath, collecting his thoughts and not allowing the fear to get the better of him. “It’s all up to me. If I wanted to get rid of Sam to stop him saying the ‘big yes’ to Lucifer in the future, where would I take him?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you think future you would get rid of Sam?”

Dean started pacing. “‘Cause future me is a colossal dick! Cas.”

Dean wasn’t kidding when he told Sammy that day that they kept each other human. Look what he became without him? Besides, future him could kill Cas without batting an eyelash, he’s sure a lash wouldn’t bat for Sammy either in a case like this.

Castiel still looked confused. “I don’t think...”

But Dean tuned the angel out and started thinking loudly. With his mouth, cutting off anything Cas had to say if it didn’t involve a solution.

..........

Consciousness slowly came back to Sam Winchester. It felt like he was trying to claw himself through a murky sea of black. When he managed to open his eyes against a blinding headache in his frontal lobe that pierced straight through to his eyeballs and the back of his skull, he had to squint before the dimly lit room came into focus.

“De...?” As soon as his brother’s concerned face came into view while he sat across from him in a chair, he tried to call his name. Except, his throat felt like sandpaper and his tongue took a while to part with the roof of his mouth. He felt like he wanted to choke on the lack of moisture in his mouth.

“Hey, hey, easy, Sammy.” Dean was across the floor in no time, holding a cup of water with a straw sticking out up to his lips while he helped maneuver him into a sitting position.

Sam took long, grateful sips, melting to the feel of Dean’s hand on his overtaxed body, smiling when he shifted back to lie on the bed. It’s all Dean, big brother, ‘do anything for Sammy’ Dean and in the middle of the overwhelming sense of _right, right, right_ there’s a sudden flash of _wrong, wrong, wrong._

Dean backed off at his rising panic, holding both hands up in a non-threatening gesture. Sam tried to move and realised that one of his hands were cuffed to a corner of the metal headboard, and based on how weak he felt, it wasn’t too necessary in the first place. 

“What the fuck _are_ you?”

“Sammy...” Dean huffed in exasperation.

Sam watched the double watch him with narrowed eyes and heavy breathing. “What. Are. You?!”

Dean paced the length of the bed, eyes fixed solely on Sammy. “Cut a guy some slack, dude. How many times am I gonna tell you it’s _me_?”

Sam snarled. But the guy got out a bottle of holy water, salt water and silver knife, drinking from both and cutting himself, with no effect. Sam’s eyes widened, because his brain was trying to analyze what could be immune to all three repellants. It’s not until the guy sits on the side of the bed, his body spilling a familiar warmth into his skin, with a softer version of Dean’s hardened look on his face that Sam takes a deep breath and looks at the guy. He smells like everything Dean; a lifetime of pain and suffering and home.

“Talk. What do you want, who are you?”

Dean tried not to let the fear in Sammy’s eyes deter him. He needed to do this as fast as possible. No telling how long he’s got. “I’m from the tail end of 2014, Sammy.” 

The guy smiled tentatively and Sam’s eyes widened. It’s not impossible. “But, how?”

The guy rubbed his hands over his face, skin rasping against stubble. A patented Dean move if Sam ever saw one.

“Zachariah,” Future-Dean snorted.

Sam’s face scrunched in confusion, his eyebrows drawn in that familiar, calculating way. “Why?”

Dean looked away then, and that was a patented Dean avoidance tactic. Like, if he didn’t look his problems in the face it wouldn’t be there. But Sam was tenacious and he knew his way around Dean like a clock knew it’s way around numbers. Tentatively, he scooted a little closer, so their shoulders brushed and the feel of Dean wrapped around him. He lowered his voice and pleaded, ducking his head so his hair fell over his eyes, knowing Dean wouldn’t be able to resist any sort of lost or confused look. “Tell me, please?”

Dean sighed, then he turned to look him in the eyes. A look born of too much hurt and pain. 

Sam knew whatever it was, it had to be bad to put that look on his brother’s face. Dean avoided emotions like the plague sometimes, whether it was out his mouth or on his face. But when it got really bad Sam knew, like a sixth sense to Dean’s worries and tribulations.

“You huh...you say _yes_ , Sammy.”

Dean jolts as he moved away, walking across the floor to the other side of the room to look out the window and Sam followed him with his eyes, trying to and not wanting to try in the same breath, to understand what Dean was implying. He noticed a strange Enochian symbol to the right of Dean on the wall. It was carved on the other three, looking like marker ink and he focused on that for a fraction of a second instead.

But there’s only so much Sam can distract himself with before he has to go back to what this Dean said, trying to ignore the fluttering of his heart and the pounding in his ear. To how he said...”I-I said ‘yes’?”

There was a distortion of air, a fissure in time and Dean could tell Sam hadn’t felt it, because he still looked horrified and frightened at what he’d said, like nothing had changed and Dean felt little cuts of memory sluicing into his brain from this move into the past. Sam had still said yes, but Dean had seen him in the five years since they separated. As a matter of fact, they spent most of their time hunting together, building to bridge the gap in their fragile relationship.

Dean drew in a deep breath before exhaling. “Yeah, yeah, you did.”

“In Detroit? Just like Lucifer said I would?”

There’s disbelief and a sort of resigned horror on Sam’s face, and Dean just itched with the need to go over to that bed and make everything alright. To promise that they’ll fix this no matter what; that he’ll never lose his Sammy. But he still can remember that garden with Lucifer in full white with Sam’s foot crushing his windpipe, about to snap his neck.

Dean’s voice was gravelly low with pleading. “Yeah, yeah, Sammy. I need you not to.”

Sam’s eyes flew wide open and his breath stuttered and it reminded Dean of all the times Sam was a six year old kid who firmly believed he’d done something wrong and wanted big brother to fix it before dad got home. 

“I won’t! Jesus, Dean. I promise I won’t say ‘yes’. Never.”

Dean wants to believe, he truly does and with the conviction in his voice he knew Sammy meant it; he had no intention of saying yes. But Dean has the memories of the future and Sammy does say yes either way. No matter what.

It’s why Zachariah sent him to the past, to take care of something that would haunt the future like a bad nightmare as long as his brother still breathed. 

“You have to believe Sammy. Believe it with every fibre of your being that you’re not gonna say yes to Lucifer,” Dean pleaded, the look in his eyes past haunted as he grabbed Sam’s neck and stared intensely into his eyes; the warmth of Sam’s skin seeping into his hand; a touched he’s missed so badly over the years he couldn’t describe.

“I believe it, Dean. I won’t say yes to Lucifer, I’d rather die first.”

Sammy’s got that look in his eyes and that set to his shoulders. Dean knew he was telling the truth but the future doesn’t change. He’s seen it in his head, and Zachariah’s words, the last prospect, comes back to haunt him like the croatoan virus he left behind back in his time. All consuming and deadly. The gun on his waist felt like a death sentence, because when he made the deal with Zachariah to come back, when the angel zapped him away right before his neck would have snapped, it was with the conviction to kill Sammy before any of this could ever happen. To stop Sammy from ever reaching that point where Lucifer could make him kill his own brother so easily. To save up to five billion lives.

Dean remembered how the first thing out of ‘09 Dean’s mouth was where was Sammy? And he remembered the look on his -his own- face when he said Sammy never made it. It’s almost the same thing, he justifies in his head. Because whether he kills him now or Lucifer wears him later, Sam will be gone either way; dead to him and it’s a fate he can’t ignore. At least this way, the planet will be spared in the process.

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean choked out as he reached for the .45 tucked in the small of his back. His limbs suddenly feel like jello. It’s the only way, he tries to convince himself.

Sam’s eyes widened to saucers and he watched Dean with the dawning trepidation of a condemned man. “Dean, what are you...?”

As the gun points directly in his face, Sam doesn’t flinch, doesn’t try to hide or to get away. He just looks at Dean and smile tentatively and it’s like a fucking dam exploded in Dean’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Dean choked out again.

It was obvious his big brother was sorry, but Sam didn’t want him to feel bad. He didn’t. “It’s ok. Hey, Dean? It’s alright, dude.”

“You still say yes.” Dean was trying to convince himself he could do this. The gun shook in his hand from nerves.

“I know, I know, Dean.” Sam licked his lips, glimpsing the muzzle of the gun and Dean’s slightly trembling fingers around the grip before looking Dean straight in the eyes again. No retreat, just complete surrender. “Dad told you it would come to this, didn’t he? He hasn’t been wrong so far, so it makes sense he’s right about this too. If you can’t save me, Dean, then kill me. Kill me before I hurt anyone else, before I destroy the world. Kill me Dean, kill me before I destroy you too...”

How ironic was it that Sam was the consoling one while Dean threatened to kill him? It made Dean feel like his gut was rearranging itself without his permission inside him and damnit but this was Sammy. How could he ever go against a code burned into every fibre of his DNA since he was four years old? How many time did Sam let him down so he could reach a point where he could, in fact, pull the trigger on his baby brother?

“It’s alright, Dean...” Sam gets it, he really does. This is necessary, and if it is, then he won’t try to stop it. He’s always believed the world would be a better place without him anyway. And this Dean would know, which is why he’s here to kill him. Logically, Sam doesn’t want to leave his Dean behind to deal with the repercussions of his death but hey, at least it’s Dean killing him and the planet will be saved. It’s a win-win situation, if Sam ever saw one. Sam smiled sadly for the tears rolling silently down Dean’s cheek. “Heal the world, make it a better place.”

Through his tears Dean scoffed, his fingers tightening on the grip of his gun. “You just made me hate MJ, dude.”

Sam shrugged. “The truth normally hurts.”

It felt good, that small bit of banter and Dean was slowly starting to accept that Sam really felt this was for the best. Dean was the only one warring with the concept because Sammy was right to feel that way. This would be for the better of all involved. The future of the world included and himself.

“I’m sorry,” Dean swallowed a lump in his throat as he straightened the gun, taking aim straight for Sam’s heart. “I’m sorry Sammy...”

Sam just smiled.

Dean pulled the trigger.

..........

“Damnit, Cas! Where the fuck are they?!” Dean knocked everything off the coffee table in his rage, breathing hard as he turned his back on Cas. Not even the car Castiel was able to find and Dean vibrated with angst. He just had to find Sammy because he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. What future him was capable of...?

“Dean,” Cas started. “Calm down. All this...”

And then the angel suddenly goes quiet, like a rubber band snapping and Dean turned to look at him, noticing the questioning tilt of his head and narrowed eyed.

Dean drew closer. “What, what is it?”

“Sam.” Castiel stated bluntly before he blinked out of existence.

“FUCK!” Dean cursed before thumping the table close to him. He had no leads, nowhere to turn and has to sit his ass down until Cas throws him a bone. And Cas better find Sam in one piece, because if future him could kill Sammy he’d kill himself right now just to stop it from happening in the future. Nothing is worth Sam’s life. _Nothing._

Five minutes later, while Dean paced and chewed on his fingernail, Castiel zapped into existence with a lifeless looking Sam in his hands. He felt like a wendigo was trying to claw itself through his stomach and up his throat. Wide eyed he asked, “Is he...?”

Castiel brought Sam to his bed, the one Dean told him was designated little brother territory and laid him gently on the sheets. “He’s unconscious.”

The anvil that threatened to crush Dean suddenly vanished and he gulped in a huge amount of air to get his lungs back on track. He rushed over to Sam and started pawing at him relentlessly, looking for any outward signs of mistreatment and damage. “Did you check him over before you got here?”

Dean looked up at Cas, who had a troubled look on his face before he avoided his eyes. “No abnormalities. Physically, he’s fine.”

Dean glared at Cas at his words. “Physically? How about mentally?”

Castiel shoved his hands in the pocket of his trenchcoat and stated, “I’m not a mind reader, Dean.”

Dean scoffed. When he was satisfied that Sammy was _only_ just unconscious, he stood and ran a hand over his stubble, thinking of his next move. “Did you see the other me?”

Castiel watched Dean busy himself around the room, tidying some of the mess he made in a bid to keep busy so he wouldn’t have to think too much about what had happened.

“No.”

Maybe future him just went back to the future, is all. “No clues at all about what went down? Nothing?”

“There was nothing, Dean. Only the Enochian cloaking symbols on the wall and your brother handcuffed to a bed unconscious.”

Dean nodded. “Fine.”

Cas was about to leave but Dean’s voice stopped him.

“And thanks, for everything.”

Castiel inclined his head in acknowledgment before zapping his way back to heaven. He won’t be the one to tell Dean that he found Sam with a bullet hole in his heart and the wall behind him splattered with blood and membrane. He definitely won’t tell Dean that before his eyes the wound closed and Sam’s eyes flew wide open and his body stiffened before he coughed up the blood clogged in his throat. And he definitely won’t tell Dean that Sam had begged him to keep it a secret. To clean him up and make like he found him unconscious.

And he especially won’t tell Dean, that the look on Sam’s face when he realized it didn’t work was the most heartbreaking thing he’s seen in a very long time.

He won’t tell Dean. 

He can’t.


End file.
